


High Hopes I Feel Like I'm Dying

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [32]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, I project onto Paddy, Sickfic I guess, and keeping me sane, migraine headaches, migraines, more tags to be added when i don't feel like my head is splitting open, poor guy, stupidly written ending i apologise in advance, thanks to BubbleDramatically for listening to me vent, tw for throwing up/euphemisms for throwing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: Paddy ends up with a migraine that just won’t go away.
Relationships: Paddock "Paddy" Whitlaw & High Hopes
Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	High Hopes I Feel Like I'm Dying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BubbleDramatically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleDramatically/gifts).



> I might have written something like this before? I’m fighting a migraine right now and I only feel good because I had a Snickers. I’m pretty sure it’s just allergies so I’m fine. In the meantime, have an obligatory migraine sickfic. Because why not.  
> TWs are in tags, flashbacks are in italics and as a result anything that would normally be italicised there is not. Poor Paddy, and I have a feeling that I picked him for this because he’s so bright and sunshiny and funny but also I can’t wait for the next episode to come out because yay! More content!  
> Now, let’s jump into this before I end up tossing my cookies due to staring at a computer screen and dealing with lights. And later deal with my very loud brother and family.

_Paddy was curled on his side, holding the sides of his head and trying not to scream._

_That morning, everything had been fine. He’d woken up a little late, but he’d gotten around to eating…eventually. Maybe that was where it was from, but personally he didn’t have time to think about it. No, he was too busy with the fact it felt like someone was driving a chisel into his skull to try and split it open._

_Of course, sleeping hadn’t done much to help that, either. Everything was too hot or too cold and he couldn’t focus and it felt like someone was_ stabbing him in the head.

_So he’d turned off all the lights and was currently hiding away in his room, turned away from the windows as best he could. It still hurt, and the dim light that was streaming through the gaps in the curtains wasn’t nice. Part of him wanted to cry. The rest of him didn’t want to because that would hurt, too. (Part of him also wished that some greater being would just strike him down so he didn’t have to deal with it anymore, but that was something else entirely)._

_Running his hands into his hair, he paused with them on the side of his head and pressed down. The pressure kind of helped, which seemed weird._ This is so stupid it’s just a headache I should be able to just get over it. _He opened his eyes, which actually felt better for some reason than keeping them closed, and let out a muffled groan when he tried to sit up. Outside, he could hear people moving around and even the dulled noise was making his stomach twist and backflip without a care._

_Curling up more, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the constant stabbing at the base of his skull._

+++

“Hey, Paddy, you okay?”

As soon as Paddy had stepped out of the inn, he regretted it. Even walking down the stairs had been a bit of a hassle. He’d been fine earlier, and then all of a sudden he felt the familiar, dully throbbing pain of an oncoming migraine. Moving hurt. Having his eyes open hurt. Closing them was worse, though, so he had to just deal with keeping them open. Talking and sound was an absolute nightmare and he could feel his stomach recoiling at the thought of talking or listening to people. Or music.

Glancing over, he forced a smile at Gwing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” She stared at him almost doubtfully for a moment, and he let out an awkward half-laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem kind of pale, Paddy.”

“Gwing, I think I’m always pale. I’m a pasty boy.” He indicated himself, and she smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Alright. Well, come on, we need to get moving if we want to walk.” She mused, heading out of the inn. Internally, and maybe a little externally as well, he grimaced at the idea of walking at all.

_Great. This day is going to be just great._

+++

_“Paddy, are you alright?”_

_He was currently curled up on one of the couches some side room, cloak wrapped around him. In all honestly, he hadn’t_ wanted _to leave the main room. It was fun and nice and people were talking to him in a way that_ didn’t _make his heart pound._

_His mother settled down on the armrest by his head. “Paddy?” She was whispering, but it sounded like a yell and it hurt just as much._

_“Please don’t shout.” He mumbled, pulling the cloak around himself even more. Everything hurt and even though the room had been dark moments before his mother had left the door open and it felt like someone was stabbing his eyes with miniature knives._

_“Is it your head?” She asked, clearly trying to be as quietly as possible. When he nodded, he felt fingers thread into his hair and gently tousle the ends. “Is this okay, sweetheart?”_

_He nodded again, part of him wishing he wasn’t so bad at this kind of thing. It was a party. He should have been able to last the whole thing, rather than running off for no reason other than the fact his_ head _hurt. For years upon years, people had ended up with far worse injuries than a simple headache._

_“Now, don’t go blaming yourself. That won’t do anyone any good.” She mused, stroking his hair away from his eyes and gently rubbing the back of his neck._

_“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, curling up a little more. Even though the touch was nice, his head still hurt like absolute hell. They didn’t even have anything that would help. Once upon a time, someone had suggested lavender, except the smell was absolutely disgusting and only made his lunch want to revisit even more._

_So, most of the time, all they could do was wait._

_And it_ sucked _._

+++

Sometimes he worried that he was being overdramatic.

That he was doing something wrong, somehow, or he was asking for a handout. That there was something just off about him in general, or he was pathetic or weak or something or other for not being able to just _move_.

At the moment, he was following the others down the trail at a distance that they probably thought meant he was getting distracted. In all honesty, he was, though not by the scenery. No, he was getting distracted by his head and his stomach and the way it felt like someone was jabbing him in his skull and making his teeth jolt if he didn’t clench his jaw every step. Which…probably wasn’t helping, but it was making him feel better in the moment and that was enough.

Reaching up, he pressed his hands to the sides of his jaw and waited a second, pressing down as best he could. He had never been sure why, but that always made him feel better?

The bright spears of sunlight that bore down on the path also felt like they were driving straight through his eyes, and he kept walking while trying his best to ignore it. There was only so much he could do while also make sure no one else noticed. The light strumming of Torlin’s guitar…thing (he couldn’t remember the name and he wasn’t going to ask) was bad enough even from a distance where it was faint. Nagar and Gimgar were shouting and joking around.

“Hey, Paddy!” Torlin shouted up ahead, and he forced a smile while also dropping his hands. The movement hurt. Even though he didn’t know why, although it was probably from tensing up everywhere as he walked (the only way he _could_ walk without wanting to double over and throw up), his shoulder was aching. All of a sudden, she frowned as he approached. Hands curled around her…thing—her _lute_ , that was what it was called—she tilted her head to the side, blonde curls falling to the side and shimmering _way too brightly_ in the sun for his eyes to handle. “Are you okay?”

_If one more person asks me that, I’m going to scream._ “I’m fine, Torlin, don’t worry.” He wasn’t fine. He was tense and exhausted and in pain and nothing was working and it was way too loud and too bright and there was nothing he could do for it. That was just how it was, and normally he could deal with it but today he had an awful feeling the mask was slipping and it wasn’t the one attached to his head. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” When he nodded, she smiled (even though it didn’t seem as bright as before).

Up ahead, Gwing and Rook stopped walking. “Hey, we’re going to stop for lunch here!” She shouted way too loudly. While Torlin was turned away and no one was looking at him, Paddy allowed himself to grimace.

His head hurt.

+++

_He was dying._

_Everything hurt and he was dying._

_“Paddy?” Faith walked into his little area and he let out a groan, covering his head with the pillow. “Are you alright?”_

_“No.”_

_This one wasn’t as bad, but it was still awful. He hadn’t slept in hours and it felt like his skull was cracking open. He didn’t feel the same stomach-flipping nausea that he usually did, though. Eating was too hard to do, so he’d just skipped it altogether and told Monroe that he wasn’t feeling well._

_“Is there anything I can do to help?” She sat down next to him—he felt the cot sink down just a little bit. Everything felt wrong and his clothes felt like they were grating like stone against his skin._

_“I don’t know.” She took his hand and started massaging his palm. Even though it didn’t really help in the moment, it was actually nice. “I almost fell into a wall earlier. I don’t know why. I just was standing and then…” With his free hand, he made a gesture. That moved the pillow, though, so he quickly grabbed it and shoved it back over his face. Sure, breathing was a little bit more difficult, but he preferred it over anything else._

_Faith’s fingers shifted to his own, and he found himself missing the days when his mother used to run her fingers through his hair and tell him everything would be fine. “How are your shoulders? You seemed pretty stiff this morning.”_

_“Sore.”_

_“Want me to get those, too?” When he nodded, she carefully let her fingers drift over her arm once she’d finished with his hand to his shoulder. It was one of the days where touch did hurt but his shoulders hurt more and he would rather die than live with that so he could handle Faith. Besides, she was pretty gentle and nice and wouldn’t hurt anyone who she didn’t have to. “Let me know if you ever need help. It’s not a big deal.” He opened his mouth, and somehow she knew he was going to protest before he could even take a breath. “Ah, I don’t want to hear it. You’re in pain, I can help. So shut up and let me.”_

_After a while, he mumbled, “Thanks.”_

_She touched his shoulder once, and he swore he could actually feel her smiling at him._

+++

“Paddy? Are you okay?”

There was _that_ question again, but Paddy found that he didn’t have the energy to scream at the person asking. It was Gimgar this time. _If Rook and Nagar ask, then I’ll have the whole set,_ the back of his mind joked, and he groaned.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ , Gimgar, I’m _fine_.” He didn’t mean to snap, really. But his head hurt and he was doubled over trying not to throw up in a bush. At the moment, he didn’t really feel like entertaining niceties.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Gimgar jerk away from him. A wounded expression briefly painted her face, but it was quickly replaced by a mix of something else as she left him alone. Still leaning against the tree where he’d gone to eat (normally he ate with the others, but everything hurt), he took a few deep breaths.

His lunch was still threatening to return even though he had barely choked it down in the first place. His head had been aching for hours on end and he wasn’t sure when it was going to stop. Part of him, secretly, hoped that he would just pass out or something because that _had_ to be better than sitting around with his head pounding.

Passing out would be nice, really. He wouldn’t have to deal with lights. Or sound. Or people in general. Although he _would_ stop breathing, and that wasn’t optimal. Or maybe it was? He could curl up in some hole somewhere if he died and not have to deal with it anymore. That would be nice, actually, now that he thought about it.

It would be very nice, actually.

“Paddy.” It was Rook this time. _Alright, if Nagar comes over I am going to punch him because he is probably the only one who can handle it._ Glancing over, Paddy outright glared at him.

“What do you want?”

“Are you okay?”

“Can people _please_ stop asking me that? I’m fine. I’ve told you, I’ve told Gwing and Torlin and Gimgar and I have just about had it!” Standing up way too fast for his stomach to handle, Paddy had to blink away some dark spots and grit his jaw before he passed out. All the pain in his shoulders and jaw and neck just got worse, and he saw confusion flash across Rook’s face for a moment.

“Are you hurt?”

“I told you, Rook, I’m fine. Now leave me alone.”

“Paddy, you’re at least hurting.” Rook reached out like he had some way to help. For a second, Paddy glared at him.

“I told you, I’m—” Pausing, he winced and said, “I need a second. I’ll be back.”

Then he ducked into the woods, still trying to make sure his lunch didn’t make a return (it did anyways).

+++

_He was curled on the bed in an inn, trying not to cry as best as he could while also staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what to do._

_Bay Hollow was gone, ransacked. He had nothing and no one left, except for what he had with him. The clothes on his back and the money in his pocket._

_He had lost everything. His family was gone. He didn’t know who was alive and who wasn’t, except that his dad was gone but he’d known that already. Someone had destroyed his hometown. Maybe his friends were gone, too. The people he’d grown up beside and with, all ripped away in an instant with no information on where they were. Everything hurt, inside and out. His head, his heart, his shoulders and back for no reason._

_Everything just hurt._

_Throwing an arm over his face, he took a few deep breaths and reminded himself that everything would be fine. He could get through this. He just…he just had to have hope._

_Even though, admittedly, that was kind of hard to do when everything was falling apart and when it felt like his body was attacking itself for no reason._

_Even worse, all the migraine was doing was remind him of everything that he had lost. He wasn’t going to have his mother combing her fingers through his hair and trying to soothe him. Connor and Cara wouldn’t stop by and tell him crappy jokes as quietly as possible while Ronan pressed a wet towel to the back of his neck._

_Curling up under the blankets, he closed his eyes and tried not to cry because that would just make everything worse._

Come on, Paddy. Have hope, _he reminded himself. It had started to become a mantra._

Everything’s going to be fine.

_~~He wasn’t sure that was true anymore, or if it’d ever be true again.~~_

+++

By the time they found an inn in the next town, everyone was asking if he was okay every five seconds and he was just too tired to care anymore.

Walking upstairs still hurt, but it was a relief of a different kind. He didn’t have to deal with anyone because they were dealing with the rooms rather than him. So, as he flopped on his bed without even bothering to do so much as wipe his makeup off, he didn’t expect anyone to come knocking on his door moments later.

Except they did.

“Go away.” He mumbled into the pillow. In all honestly, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with someone.

“Nope. Roll over.” He did, only to find Gwing sitting next to him. Rook walked over to the window and shut the curtains as best he could. “Gimgar and Nagar are sharing a room, you’re sharing with Rook. Congrats.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Nope. You don’t get to make this call.” Gwing replied quickly, shooting him down without even a second thought. “Now, you’re going to change out of all this to help you cool down before going to bed, because heat isn’t going to make this any better. Got it?”

For a second, he just stared at her, blinking. She sounded like Cara for that moment. “Okay?”

“Yep. Now, I’m going to go downstairs and see if the innkeeper has anything that might help. I’ll be back in two minutes. Rook, keep an eye on him.” Gwing turned and disappeared out the door into the hallway, closing it quietly behind her.

Glancing over at Rook, Paddy asked, “What just happened?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hate this ending, but that’s okay.  
> It feels like I’m whining about this (my own migraine, which is getting worse now that I have no distractions) but whatever. Sorry for burdening you with it.   
> Also I know some people might not be able to handle that much talking with a migraine but I guess I’ve had to adapt in order to communicate and the like? (And I also had people telling me that I could no longer use the headache excuse because of what I could and couldn’t handle, but they’ve either stopped doing that or stopped being in my life so that’s better now.) So this is mostly based off my own experience.  
> Anyways, y’all are loved and appreciated and awesome and amazing and I love you and I hope you have a nice day. Thanks for reading, and I will see you in the next fic!  
> Now, into the fray once more.


End file.
